Greetings, my fellow coffee-chuggers!

This year’s Family Robbo tax return package showed up on the Port Swillor Manor doorstep last evening for signing, processing, and check-cutting.

The irony of Caesar’s goons coming around to collect his denarii during Holy Week this year has not been lost on Ol’ Robbo, and has provided me an interesting point of meditation vis a vis what gets rendered to him and what gets rendered to God and, perhaps more importantly, why.

On the one hand, it’s quite comforting, when reading of the latest madness of the world around one, to know that in the end it really doesn’t make that much difference when compared to Eternity.

On the other, I still live here, so I will ask a question I may have asked already: It’s been a long time now since Uncle paid any attention to the notion that you only buy what you can pay for and that there should at least be some rational relationship between federal outlays and federal revenues. He simply prints the stuff now. (Inflation? Never heard of it!) That being the case, why am I still paying any income tax at all?

The world wonders.

Okay, Ol’ Robbo is really signing off for now. Bless you all and have a very Happy Easter, and I’ll see you on the other side.

** I don’t care what the young whipper-snappers say, they’re still relevant. And Revolver is still my favorite album.